


Cold Iron

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Cursed Derek Hale, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Derek Hale Has Bad Luck, Don’t copy to another site, Fae Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mentioned Jennifer Blake, Mentioned Kate Argent, Mystery, Oops, Past Relationship(s), Sterek Week, Sterek Week 2019, except i spell it with a k, sterekmystery, the teen rating is because the author has a dirty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-01-02 02:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: Derek thought the disaster that ended with Kate Argent almost burning down his family home was a relationship worst-case  scenario. So, when Dr. Deaton reveals that his current girlfriend is not what she seems, Derek is ready to swear off romance forever. In an attempt to escape his well-meaning (but insanely overbearing) family, Derek volunteers to take over remodeling the small cottage that was left to the Hale siblings in his grandmother’s will. Connemara is nothing like California, and Derek feels like his luck just might be looking up.Sterek Week 2019 Day 1: Mystery





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I spent two months in Ireland five-ish years ago and 99% of the time I was knee deep in a bog. I loved every second of it and the rocks were top-notch. Apologies to any Irish people reading this for all of the stuff that I got glaringly wrong.
> 
> The work is 5 chapters, I hope to have it all up by the end of the day!

Derek stepped off the plane feeling lighter than he had in ages. As much as he loved his family, they could be… a lot. And after Deaton had revealed that Jennifer was some kind of magical serial killer, Derek had maybe needed a little over protectiveness. But it had been six months and now he wanted space.

It was his dad who suggested the cottage. Robert Hale had grown up there, though he was Robert O’Kelly back then. He only moved to the United States to attend university, but ended up staying when he’d fallen in love with Derek’s mom.

Derek had visited the cottage a few times when he was young and had fond memories of his grandmother. She’d been a teacher, like his dad, and still cut her own peat to heat her home. She’d passed away a few years after the Kate Argent fiasco, but the cottage remained in Robert’s name.

From the airport, Derek took a train, then a bus, and then decided to walk the rest of the way to the cottage. He slung his duffle bag across his chest and pulled up a map on his phone. The quickest way was to cut through the grove of trees between the bus station and the cottage.

Only a few minutes into the walk, Derek felt like he’d made a major miscalculation. The trees were much denser than in the preserve at home and there was a presence in the woods. Not necessarily evil, just heavy in a way that felt uncomfortable.

Derek hefted his duffle bag and double checked his map. He was already halfway; the easiest course would be to push through. Stepping over a line of mushrooms, Derek continued on his way.

Much to his dismay, the woods only got more tangled the farther he traversed. When he finally broke the tree line, Derek knew he was absolutely covered in leaves and brambles.

It was worth it because he could see the cottage. Fond memories surfaced at the sight. Poking through the marshy land as a wolf cub, wrestling with Laura in his human shape, baking bread with his grandmother. Derek somehow felt even lighter.

As he tramped up through the overgrown garden, Derek started digging through his pockets for the keys. He frowned when he came up empty-handed. Maybe they had fallen to the bottom of his duffle.

Tired from his battle with the woods after being awake for twenty hours, Derek decided to take matters into his own hands. He jiggled open one of the cottage windows and tossed his bag inside. Once he climbed through, he closed the window behind him and breathed in the unfamiliar scents. One of his dad’s cousins had already come by to check on the place earlier in the week, but everything else was a few years old.

Derek picked up his bag, exhaustion finally taking hold. He’d barely remembered to take his shoes off before stumbling into the room he’d shared with Laura so many years ago.

_I’ll find the keys in the morning_, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

## * * *

“But Lydia,” Stiles whined, head pillowed on his arms. “You don’t understand.”

Lydia snorted, not looking up from where she was pouring milk foam into Stiles’ latte.

“You’re right,” she set the finished drink in front of him, complete with an artistically drawn latte dick. “I couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to have an unrealistic responsibility pushed onto you when you’re a young adult and just coming up with your own hopes and dreams.”

Stiles winced. Maybe he was being a little unfair.

“Lydia, you’re a goddess,” he took a sip of his drink and groaned. “A literal goddess. I’m sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, automatically going through the motions of cleaning up her station. It was early still, nearly 5:30 and she never opened before 6. Stiles was just lucky enough to be her best friend. One frantic phone call and she’d dragged him downstairs to make him help set up for the day.

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, leaning one hip against the counter.

Stiles shrugged. “I guess wait and see what happens. Maybe this guy won’t turn out to be a threat.”

“Oh honey,” Lydia’s voice dripped with false brightness. “When has _anything_ turned out to not be a threat.”

It was true. Their high school years were a mess, with Scott becoming a werewolf, Lydia finding out she was a banshee, and Stiles dealing with the fae form of puberty. Luckily, they’d made it through.

Now, Scott was balancing being the Alpha of a misfit pack back in California with his vet-school studies. Stiles had stuck around for a little while, but finally came to terms with his destiny as caretaker of a tiny plot of woods in an even tinier town. He’d finished his business degree in three years and left Beacon Hills behind.

Only a year ago, Lydia had dropped out of her chemistry PhD program. _There’s just no ambition in academia anymore_, she’d said, in the affected tone only an immortal could manage. Even though said immortal was only twenty-two.

She’d bought one of the empty stores in town, transforming it into a coffee shop with two apartments. One was for Stiles and one was for herself, which meant Stiles could expand the bookshop up into his former living space.

Because he’d taken over his mother’s bookshop when he moved here. The place felt like a living, breathing entity all on its own, partly because he had spent the first six years of his life there, and partly because his mother’s magic was very much fused with the place. He loved it and, with Lydia here, he loved his day-to-day life.

“I’ve never had to deal with a threat on my own turf before,” he said, watching as Lydia balanced the cash drawer and set out pastries for the morning crowd.

She slipped off the plastic gloves she used when handling food and sighed. “I’d imagine it’s the same as it was back in Beacon Hills. Except now we have your fairy circles to let us know that a grumpy beta werewolf went gallivanting through your woods last night.”

“Don’t call them that,” he grumbled, swirling the last of his latte around in the mug. “They’re an advanced supernatural threat warning system.”

Lydia laughed, flipping the sign on the door to ‘open.’

“You keep telling yourself that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I writing these as I go because I spent too long working on the edit for this fic? You better believe it.

After a week of cleaning out the cottage and having absolutely no contact with the outside world, Derek was starting to feel antsy. The break from people, and especially from Laura, had been a good thing. But he had to speak with another living being soon or he’d go crazy.

The town was small, named something Derek still wasn’t sure how to pronounce. For all of his linguistic skills, he’d never found the opportunity to learn Gaelic.

As he walked down the narrow street, he looked at the storefronts with interest. There was the pub he’d eaten at on his first day, the tiny grocery store where he’d picked up a couple weeks’ worth of frozen dinners, and the old-fashioned hardware store he wanted to scope out.

His spine tingled as he walked past a dim alley and he backtracked. A single light illuminated a sign the read _Klaudia’s Books_. He’d only packed a carry-on and read both books he’d brought on the plane, train, and bus to get here. A bookstore was exactly what he needed.

As the door creaked behind him, Derek froze. His senses were overwhelmed by the smell and feel of magic, almost as if every surface of the building was imbibed with it. The man behind the counter looked up from the heavy tome he was hunched over.

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice flat.

The sarcastic voice in his head, a voice that always sounded like Laura for some reason, said _fantastic customer service, no wonder there’s no one here._ But Derek wasn’t his sister, so he kept the thought to himself. It helped that he was too distracted by the frankly gorgeous man to be a smartass.

The man in question glared at him with growing hostility. “Can. I. Help. You,” he repeated, each word sharp and punctuated.

Right. Staring was not a great way to make people feel comfortable.

“I was just looking for a book,” Derek said, smiling his most disarming smile.

“Well,” the man gestured around him. “Good thing we have books here.”

Derek blinked. The anger directed at him seemed personal. But maybe the man just didn’t like being interrupted. Feeling wrong-footed, Derek set to browsing.

His pile was slowly growing when he heard the squeak of a chair behind him. Looking over at the store’s only other occupant, he found sharp eyes staring back.

“There’s more upstairs,” the man said, voice softer this time.

“Thank you.”

Sure enough, the loft above the store was packed with books. Clearly, it used to be a living space, but now the rooms were lined with bookshelves. Even the former kitchen had books piled high on counter tops and crammed into the door-less cabinets.

One of the bedrooms was filled with children’s books, and Derek immediately thought of Cora when his eyes landed on a worn copy of _The Hobbit_. He picked it up and added it to his pile, before pulling his phone from his back pocket.

That morning, she’d sent him a text.

** Cora Hale**

Today 7:38AM

_ It’s too quiet, I ALMOST wish I was back at UC. _

_ Laura apologized for being an ass. _

_ Please give us some indication that you haven’t been taken by the fae. Dad has STORIES_

** Derek Hale**

Today 11:38AM

_ Still here. Laura has my phone number, if she wants to apologize to me. Love you._

The phone pinged, _message sending failed_ in red below his text bubble. Derek frowned. When he checked, there was no reception. Maybe his phone didn’t update correctly? He thought he had picked the right kind of plan.

He sneezed, the smell of magic making his nose itch. He didn’t know much about magic, but it could be that the shop itself was causing some kind of interference.

Derek tucked the phone away and picked up his books. The narrow stairs seemed even more precarious going down.

“Find everything okay?”

He jumped at the voice. The man from behind the counter was now at the other end of the shop. Derek hadn’t heard him moving around at all.

“Yeah.” He held up the small stack of books.

The man hummed, walking almost soundlessly across to the till. Derek followed, feeling unnerved. A loud ding from the till brought him out of his thoughts.

“Fifteen euro,” the man said.

“Oh. Right.” Derek fumbled for his wallet and tugged out a handful of brightly colored bills. He handed the proper amount over, heart skipping when their eyes locked.

Just as quickly, the man’s gaze dropped down to the cash drawer. “Would you like a receipt?”

“No thank you.” Derek wanted to kick himself. It hadn’t been very long since he’d sworn off relationships. He had no business falling for the first Irish man he spoke to. Even if said Irish man’s eyes were like molten amber in this light.

“Wait,” he said, and those eyes flicked back to him. “Your accent.”

The man smirked, some of the chill in his expression evaporating. “Well, I grew up in California.”

“Huh,” Derek knew the accent was American, he just didn’t realize it was so close to home. “Me too.”

“Small world.”

The man went back to reading his book, and Derek felt like he’d been dismissed. Gathering up his new reading material, he pushed his way out of the shop.

“Have a nice day!” he called, door slipping shut behind him.

## * * *

“It’s a catastrophe, Lydia.” Stiles slid farther down on Lydia’s couch. “I was a dick and he told me to have a nice day.”

A cabinet door slammed in the kitchen, then Lydia appeared holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” she said, frowning at the way he was sprawled half on the floor.

“He likes to read,” Stiles said, like it was the worst thing in the world. “And his smile is like condensed sunshine.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Lydia said. “I should have brought more wine.”

Stiles reached for a glass, but she shook her head.

“Not until you’re sitting on my couch like a human being. I remember last time.” She frowned at the glasses in her hands. “Maybe we should drink white.”

“But I fixed it,” Stiles grumbled as he climbed back into his seat. “There wasn’t even a little stain leftover.”

Lydia handed him the glass. “Except _I_ know the stain was there.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Stiles sipped his wine, thinking back to the altercation in the bookshop. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to drink your wine and then you’re going to get out of my apartment,” Lydia said. “You were supposed to keep an eye on the ‘wolf, not fall in love with him after your first interaction.”

“Maybe he put a spell on me,” Stiles said, voice far away.

Lydia laughed so hard she had to set down her wine. “You’re ridiculous. Drink your wine and go to bed.”

“Yes ma’am.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is live-posting folks, apologies for the typos. i'll come through and clean everything up after the last chaper XD

The day after Derek visited the hardware store in town, he had more ideas for the cottage than he knew what to do with. First, he wanted to tear out the faded linoleum in the kitchen and replace the fixtures in the bathrooms. But maybe he’d do a complete remodel and take out all of the cabinets and countertops as well.

Derek was so wrapped up in his plans that he nearly ran into someone ducking out of a nearby alley.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back too quickly. One of his canvas grocery bags split down the side, scattering its contents everywhere.

“Shit, no that was my bad.” The voice was accompanied by the familiar scent of magic.

Derek looked up from corralling his soup cans to see the man from _Klaudia’s Books_.

“Let me help,” the man said, starting to gather up escaped produce. “I was on my way over to the coffee shop before the afternoon rush took all the good scones. Not that there’s ever a rush, really. Scones are just better when they’re hot.”

Blinking, Derek set an onion on top of one of his other bags. It was the most anyone had spoken to him since he arrived. Even James at the hardware store hadn’t given more than one-word answers.

“You don’t have to…”

“Nope, too bad buddy,” the man gathered up his armload of groceries and stood. “It was my fault, I’ll help.”

Derek sighed. “These bags are old, one of the seams probably tore.”

The man ignored him, already marching down the street toward the cottage. The town was small enough that he probably knew exactly where he was going.

Shaking his head, Derek hurried to catch up.

“I’m Derek,” he said, belatedly, as they reached his temporary home. His dad would be disappointed in his lack of manners.

“Stiles,” the man answered, and it took Derek a moment to realize that ‘Stiles’ was probably his name.

“Well, Stiles,” Derek managed to shove the door open. “Thank you for your help.”

“It was no trouble, really.”

Stiles followed him inside, dumping the groceries onto the counter. He looked around the place, smiling as his eyes landed on the wall of pictures Derek hadn’t had the heart to take down.

“Are you moving here permanently?” Stiles asked, wandering over to look at the pictures more closely.”

Derek set his bags down beside Stiles’ haphazard pile and started sorting through the groceries.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said eventually, carrying boxes of dried goods over to the pantry. “It was a hard couple of years on my family and I needed to get away for a while.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Stiles abandoned the pictures in order to help put things away. “This is a good place to get away from everything.”

Already over the fact that a complete stranger was deciding where his butter went, Derek shrugged. “This place was left to me and my two sisters, so I decided to come, take a break, and fix it up.”

Stiles put down the celery that he’d been decapitating. “Wait, was Mrs. O’Kelly your grandmother?”

“She was,” Derek said simply, rescuing the celery from Stiles’ fingers.

“I lived in town when I was younger,” Stiles said, eyes far away, “I think I might remember playing with someone my age here?”

Derek put away the bag of coffee and folded the canvas bags. “I guess it really is a small world.”

“Yeah.” Stiles went back to the pictures on the wall, this time like he was looking for something. “What do you have planned in terms of renovations? I noticed the garden looks less overgrown.”

Resigning himself to having made a new friend, Derek set to making coffee. “I cleaned up the hedges and the ivy, but I’m not really familiar with the plants used for landscaping here.”

Stiles hummed, pointing at one photograph. “There I am!” he said, finger resting on the face of a small child, grinning alongside Derek and Laura. The photo had to have been taken during their last visit here, nearly twenty years ago. “And I could probably get you a book on plants for this climate.”

Derek set two coffee mugs on the table and pulled out the notebook he’d been jotting down ideas in. “I’d really appreciate that,” he said. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Reaching for the notebook, Stiles took a seat at the kitchen table. “Show me what else you have planned for this place.”

## * * *

Stiles dropped into his usual spot at the coffee counter. It was nearing closing time and the shop was empty.

“I am the worst,” he announced, knowing Lydia would hear him.

Sure enough, she emerged from the kitchen a moment later with a tray of freshly baked scones. “I agree, but what did you do this time?”

“He’s so sweet, Lydia,” Stiles flailed dramatically. “His name is Derek and he has two sisters. And he doesn’t even realize the fairy ring cursed him!”

Lydia shook her head fondly, setting down a plate with two scones in front of him. She flitted about, preparing two cups of tea before joining him on the other side of the counter.

“You said it, not me,” she pointed out, taking one of the scones.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “The _advanced supernatural threat warning system_ cursed him.”

She took a sip of her tea, clearly thinking something over. “Did you get any insight into why he’s here?” she asked.

“Apparently his grandmother was the owner of the O’Kelly place. He said he needed some time away so he came to do renovations.” Stiles bit into the remaining scone and lost track of the conversation. Like everything else Lydia made, it was distractingly good.

“I guess it all depends on what ‘time away’ means,” she said, fingers wrapped around her cup. “And if his problems are going to follow him here.”

“Hm?” Stiles looked up, mouth full.

Lydia sighed. “At least tell me what you thought of the scone.”

“It was amazing,” Stiles said, honestly. “Incredible. I could eat ten more.”

“Well,” she reached across the counter, dragging over the entire tray. “This was an experimental batch.”

Stiles grabbed two more scones, each one vanishing as quickly as the first.

“I guess I’ll add these to the rotation,” she said, getting to her feet to flip the sign on the door. “And Stiles?”

“Yeah?” He looked up in the process of stealing a fourth scone to find her watching him with a concerned expression.

“Be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Stiles looked at the scone in his hand, suddenly much less enthusiastic about eating it. “I know. I’ll try.”

She nodded once, then reached for the broom. “Now help clean up and I’ll let you take the rest of those scones.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup this was a MISTAKE. me @myself: plan things better. one more chapter to go but i have to be awake to look at rocks in approximately three hours so hopefully soon?

Derek woke up feeling rested. He reveled in the sensation, which had been unfamiliar before moving into the cottage. Rolling onto his back, he took a deep breath. The cottage was starting to smell like Stiles now. Somehow, he’d managed to situate himself into Derek’s routine and Derek definitely wasn’t complaining.

It was good to have help, too. Together, they’d removed all of the wallpaper in the house. Stiles had been especially helpful with the painting, doing a subtle spell to disperse the strong chemical smell. Derek didn’t let on that he knew, and Stiles smelled smug for the rest of the day.

By now, they’d managed to do as much as a pair of inexperienced DIY-ers could do. Stiles had held a couple of Skype calls with his dad about plumbing, before the Sheriff told him to just hire a professional.

After the incident with the nail gun, Derek was inclined to agree.

** Bookshop Stiles**

Today 6:12AM

_ gonna open the shop today. cant run a business if im never around. finish the bthrm floor tomorrow?_

Derek smiled at the message, typing out _Have a good day!_

Stretching, he debated going for a run before deciding to head to the coffee shop. It was usually quiet during this time of day.

As he walked, Derek’s phone let out a cheery _ping!_ He opened the text, shaking his head at the indecipherable string of emoticons. Being friends with Stiles was certainly never boring.

Inside, Lydia was ringing up one of the locals with a bright smile on her face. All Derek had managed to glean from their conversations was that she had been studying the science of poison before deciding that her chemical expertise would be better suited for making caffeinated beverages and baked goods.

The interest in poisons hadn’t been nearly as alarming as it should have been. Derek supposed that was because Lydia constantly smelled like death magic. He was leaning toward banshee, which still left Stiles.

Stiles was definitely not a banshee. But he also wasn’t a druid like Deaton or a darach like Jennifer. His magic smelled less like grave dirt and more like the forest behind Derek’s cottage.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Lydia asked, already setting out a plate for his usual blueberry scone.

Derek gave himself a little shake, trying to clear his thoughts of Stiles. “Stiles was saying we should be able to finish the bathroom floor tomorrow.”

And fail step one.

Lydia looked at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Well, that’s great news.” She set about making his drink without prompting. “Have you figured out what you boys are going to tackle next?”

Shifting on his feet, Derek felt his stomach drop. He’d completed his task of fixing up the cottage. The garden was neat and colorful. The rooms were each painted and re-carpeted. The kitchen was completely redone. Really, he could head back to Beacon Hills as soon as the bathroom floor was done.

Setting Derek’s hot chocolate down next to his scone, Lydia reached for his credit card.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” she said, handing him his receipt. “I know Stiles would be thrilled if you did.”

Derek nodded, stuffing the receipt in his pocket and heading for his usual table. He took a sip of his drink and nearly choked.

His familiar hot chocolate tasted vaguely like broccoli. A sniff confirmed that it was the same as always, but his taste buds did not agree. Derek sighed and drank it anyway.

Maybe he was cursed after all.

## * * *

“So, I’m thinking you actually are the worst.”

“Fuck.” Stiles dropped the bag of groceries he was carrying. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

Lydia flicked on the side table lamp. “As I was saying. You need to do something about Derek.”

Stiles sighed, pulling out the fallen eggs in their cardboard carton. If he just believed that none of them were broken, maybe it’d be true.

“I know, Lydia. The curse thing is only situational. It’ll wear off soon.” He rifled through the bag, setting the magically unbroken eggs safely on the counter.

She hummed, watching him work. “I was talking about his massive crush on you, but sure, let's talk about the curse.”

The eggs nearly ended up on the floor again. “Lydia!”

“Well, it’s true.” She kicked her shoes off, stretching out on the sofa. “All he would talk about was _Stiles thinks this_ and _Stiles said that_. It would be obnoxious if it wasn’t so sweet.”

“I knoooow,” Stiles groaned, groceries taken care of. “He’s so perfect. It’s distressing.”

“You volunteered to help do manual labor,” Lydia said, judgement lacing her words. “I usually have to bribe you.”

“He remembers my mom,” Stiles said quietly.

A complicated expression passed over Lydia’s face. Klaudia’s death had been the awakening of her banshee powers.

“And it helps that his biceps are the size of my head.” Stiles plowed right over the moment. “I think that does it for me.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I know, I was there for your ‘bi awakening.’”

Wincing at the thought of his high school self, Stiles settled down at the end of the couch, pulling Lydia’s feet onto his lap.

“He’s going to leave at some point,” Stiles said, humor gone.

“You don’t know that,” Lydia said, kicking him gently. “Your mom stayed with your dad after he moved to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles scoffed. “Right. They’d already had a decade-long relationship.” He dropped his head. “And being separated from here eventually killed her.”

Lydia pushed herself upright, aggressively catching Stiles in a hug. “Stop it,” she said. “No going melancholy where I can feel it.”

“You’re a banshee, not a mind reader,” Stiles grumped, but he relaxed into her hold. “Maybe I can content myself to pine from afar.”

“Oh honey,” Lydia squeezed him tighter, sounding sympathetic rather than condescending.

Stiles clung back, wondering when he’d fallen so hard for the same stupid grumpy beta wolf that disturbed his fairy r- advanced supernatural threat warning system - all those weeks ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter............(finally)

Running on the narrow roads around town wasn’t the most exciting way to spend a drizzly morning, but Derek really didn’t feel like tracking a whole bog’s worth of muck onto his new bathroom floor. Well, _the cottage’s_ new bathroom floor.

Derek frowned at said floor, running a towel through his hair. The towels were even new, carefully selected to go with the soft green, slate blue and light brown color scheme of the cottage.

He and Stiles had spent an entire day driving to the nearest shopping center and arguing over whether olive or moss was the shade of green that best matched the ‘undertones’ of the tiled flooring. Stiles had brought along a book on color theory and spent the drive reading bits out loud. Derek still didn’t understand why he’d decided laurel was a suitable compromise, but the finished result was nice to look at. And the towels were soft to the touch.

Hanging the damp towel over the newly installed – and timer heated – towel rack, Derek shuffled out into the kitchen clad in just his jeans. The new appliances contrasted nicely with the custom cabinets and Derek knew, deep in his bones, that he couldn’t leave.

Unplugging his phone from its designated charging nook, Derek hit the _Home_ contact on autopilot. Just when he’d calculated out the time difference, Cora picked up.

“Derek Samuel Hale it is after midnight and some of us need our beauty sleep.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “And since when have you gone to bed before two?”

“I could be turning over a new leaf,” she said, haughtily. “Maybe I’ve decided to become a disgusting early bird like you.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” Derek said. He was pretty sure the world would end if Cora willingly got up before ten. Luckily her new job let her set her own hours.

Cora huffed, then switched tactics. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I just wanted to chat. Catch up on the town gossip.”

“Okay, now I know something is wrong.” There was a rustling noise on the other end, then a door slammed shut. “I mean, when have _you_ ever wanted to gossip?”

“Fair,” Derek said, suddenly feeling guilty. “I just wanted…” he trailed off.

“You want to stay and you’re afraid that you’re abandoning us?” Cora asked.

Derek blinked, blindsided by the accuracy of her words. “How did you know?”

“I _know_ you Derek.” Cora sighed. “And to be honest, I kinda thought you were making the cottage into your dreamhouse? Like, subconsciously at least, you were planning for the long-haul?”

Thinking back to the amount of thought he’d put into even the smallest details, Derek could see her point. He’d subjected her to an hour-long conversation about doorknobs after all.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, and Cora laughed.

“Say that again, I need to record it.”

Derek snorted, mood suddenly lighter. “Not likely.”

“You’re no fun.” Then more seriously, Cora said “I’m happy for you, Derek.”

“Thanks, Cora.” A warm feeling settled in his chest. “Now can you let me break the news to Mom and Dad?”

“Pretty sure they were just waiting for you to figure it out, but I can bring them the phone.” There was the creak of a door and the sound of Cora’s footsteps on the stairs. “Mom’s talked Dad into marathoning Clint Eastwood again.”

Derek groaned, and the warm feeling only grew.

## * * *

The door to the bookshop creaked open, pulling Stiles’ attention from the grimoire he was reading. Well, trying to read. His archaic Latin still wasn’t as good as Lydia’s.

“Derek!” He closed the book with a thump, coughing at the cloud of dust that escaped from between the ancient pages. “What can I do for you?”

Then Stiles actually took in the sight in front of him and paused. Because Derek Hale was in his shop, wearing a crop top, abs fully on display.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Derek sighed, pulling his shirt down fruitlessly. “Everything shrank in the wash.”

Stiles made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak, looking anywhere but Derek. “When you got here, you cut through the woods.”

“Yeah?” Derek frowned. Clearly, he had no idea what his little hike had to do with the fact that none of his shirts seemed to fit anymore.

“I set up an advanced supernatural threat warning system when I moved here,” Stiles said, eyes fixed on the biographies. “You walked right through it.”

“An ‘advanced supernatural threat warning system’?”

“Yeah.” Stiles let out a slow breath. “As Lydia likes to say, I’m a paranoid motherfucker.”

“I can’t imagine Lydia saying that,” Derek said, still looking lost.

At that, Stiles laughed, finally meeting Derek’s eyes. “You’re right. She phrased it a little more eloquently.”

“So why do you need a warning system?” Derek asked.

“High school was a rough time. We had rampaging omegas, an alpha pack, an evil nemeton … Literally anything that could want to eat us tried to eat us.” Stiles shrugged, like the memories didn’t still haunt him in his dreams. “Would have been nice to have an idea of what was coming.”

“Makes sense.” Knowing Derek, he was trying to piece together Stiles’ story with the rumors and gossip he’d picked up from his pack and surrounding supernatural community.

“So, the second you crossed ring,” Stiles cut in, before Derek could figure out Stiles was from two towns away and had been saved from the alpha pack by his _mother_. “I knew that there was a grumpy beta-wolf tromping through my woods.”

“Wait.” Derek’s whole face lit up with understanding. “Are you saying I walked through a fairy ring?”

“Goddamn it.” Stiles covered his face. “Yes. Yes I’m saying you walked through a fairy ring and ended up with the most inconvenient curse in the world.”

Of all the responses Stiles had expected, Derek laughing himself breathless was not one of them.

“Um. Derek?” Stiles edged around the corner of his desk, unsure. “You alright there, big guy?”

Derek wiped his face on the collar of his too-small shirt and shook his head. “This is what it feels like to be cursed?”

“I’m so sorry.” Stiles slumped back against his desk, feeling miserable. “Lydia and I tried everything to reverse it, but this is the kind of magic that has to be left to wear off.”

“So, I’m going to lose my keys, end up with pink laundry, that kind of thing?”

“As far as we can tell, it lasts six cycles of the moon.” Stiles hesitated. “Or maybe until you leave. I don’t think the magic can reach across an ocean and a continent.”

“You don’t think?” Derek asked.

“I’ve never had anyone walk through a ring before,” Stiles said. “Most people around here know better.”

When Stiles glanced up, Derek just looked amused.

“Sorry,” he said, and Stiles’ heart dropped. “But the range of the curse might have to remain a mystery.”

“Hang on.” Stiles pushed himself away from the desk, barely daring to hope. “Do you mean-”

“I’m staying.” Derek stepped into Stiles’ space.

Hands coming up to rest on Derek’s bare midriff, Stiles glanced from his eyes to his lips. “Please tell me you’re gonna kiss me.”

“Actually, I was going to ask you to dinner,” Derek said. “Since the kissing usually comes after the first date.”

Stiles snorted, suddenly giddy. “You mean picking out bed sheets doesn’t count as a date?”

Derek kissed him in response.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to rebloggable tumblr edit [HERE!!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com/post/188587992304/cold-iron-derek-thought-the-disaster-that-ended)


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